"To tell you the truth, I'm pretty burned out
on meat poetry or street poetry or poetry of
the down-and-out, whatever you want to call
it, because so much of it is bullshit; either bogus
motherfuckers who never shed blood but
insinuate themselves into the lives of those
who have and then make a name for themselves
by writing generic imitations, or a bunch of
middle-class kids still living at home talking
tough, aping Bukowski, Wantling, levy, Micheline...
but HAPPY HOUR is the real thing. Stark precision.
It's stripped down, bare bones authentic.
You be the real McCoy, amigo..."
-John Bennett

DRINKING & THINKINGFROM BLUE PRESS,SANTA CRUZ, CA. 2010"For a while, now, outside of
what you/ve been doing
outside Klamath Falls and what
Todd Moore was doing outside
Albuquerque, not much
integrity married to the inside
dope of the poetic imagination
as far as my jaded view
has been concerned."
-Michael C. Ford

SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOUFrom 48th Street Press,Philadelphia, PA. 2010"SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOU
is simply a great piece of work."
-GERALD NICOSIA

TASTE THEFrom If Year Books,Brooklyn, N.Y. 2009"A cool little scrabble of
fugitive pieces, some
handwritten, some paste-
ups, all laid in like a scrapbook
miscellany with mean teeth."
-Kevin Opstedal, Ukulele Feedback

12/30/10

3 or 4 bottles of tussinand a couple vics I'dbe good to go takingdown a bank on new year'seve all those fat tellersalready dripping juicein anticipation of thatgreatest night of pre mademargaritas and maybe adildo stuffed with coppertopsif the greaseball theycame with keeps singingfucking karaoke as theclock strikes twelve but thelast time I borrowed apistol the crankster got pissedbecause I didn't evenblow my brains out just keptwriting insipid poems andhe trusted me man and thatwas his first mistake soif you ever do get a piecejust put together the puzzle

12/29/10

12/28/10

"...and I seen therevolution onpay-per-viewin some sportsbar in Terrell, Txhigh on bikercrank with thisOkie broad withsome sweet cameltoe who thought itwas one longinfomercial but itwasn't shit not likethe new Walmart..."

12/26/10

12/22/10

I got a lock of my dad'sgreasy hair in an envelopethe undertaker guy gaveme and I got a pair of soiledpanties from my dead old ladyI used to sniff and jack offonto with that little poofed outcrap mark and I got this littlenotebook page Allen Ginsbergscribbled some shit to me onwhen we read together and Igot a blue heron's beak andskull my kids gave to me thatthey found by the river and Igot Miles Davis' autograph in aframe right there on a wall thatI own and I got about a third leftof this half a G of Evan Williamsand I got your Christmas hanging

12/13/10

...he's (Nettelbeck) afraud of an artist and a fraud of a human being.-bukowski.net

I also used to go on these runsto Powell's Books in Portlandyears ago with a little stubbiepencil with an eraser beforeit all went computer and whennobody was looking I'd changethe prices on all these armygreen covered ethnology bookson the shelves about the Indiansprinted by the US governmentca. 1900 from $150 to $3 eachthen buy them and bring themall back and sell them to this richold white lady in a wheelchair inWeed, CA and make damn goodmoney that I would piss awaywith my Paiute girlfriend on beer

12/2/10

11/27/10

the angels don't give nochange when you payyour dues so hang ontothat box of wine and afew favorite photos itwon't get no better justbecause you're in theclub and a universityhas your shitty poemslocked away in a climatecontrolled room someof your best friends aredead and this ain't thesame country you wentjunkin' with your grandpain so you might as wellstay and listen to a fewmore sad songs the warsand hatred will always beking but because she wasyour first choice and youain't with her that's whatmakes the jukebox play

11/22/10

I can recallback in the daywhen I payedattention to anyof that pop bullshitI read this thingin the LA Timeswhere Beefheartwas claiming"I can't even buymy old lady anice coat, andwhere is that at"and I've alwaysremembered thatwhen he opted outso I am telling youmy bitch is flatfucking freezing

remembering the many timesjust like this you and Icleaned the graves ofyour children and unknownrelatives who perishedon the now long gone Rezin back seats of greyblack cars clutchingonto precious bottlesthat held the miracle